A moon over Bourbon Street

Relancer la machine, lecteur, voilà ce qu'il faut faire. Dans l'idée, j'écris un petit post tous les jours/tous les deux jours. Je ne sais pas si je vais y arriver (surtout, je ne sais pas si je vais y arriver sans perdre les deux dernières personnes qui vérifient encore si j'écris une fois de temps en temps), mais c'est l'idée. Et l'idée d'aujourd'hui, c'est: 5 trucs à savoir sur mon appartement.

1. J'habite en face d'un concessionnaire Mercedes géant, dont mon beau-frère a un jour dit (avec raison, à 100%) qu'il ressemble à un Dalek. Donc à une cafetière, aussi, il faut le noter. Au dessus de ce concessionnaire Mercedes, ils ont installé l'étoile de la marque, un énorme machin de bien un mètre de haut, qui tourne et est éclairé façon Ibiza by night. Des fois, quand je me couche, je vois la lumière au travers de mes rideaux et je crois que c'est la lune. C'est poétique, peut-être, ou peut-être que c'est glauque, mais depuis que je vis en Allemagne, je confonds la lune avec l'étoile Mercedes...

2. Le sol de la salle de bain est surélevé, de sorte que le chambranle de la porte de la salle de bain est plus bas de dix centimètres que le reste des chambranles de porte de la maison, ce qui fait que je me ramasse le crâne régulièrement à la sortie de la douche. Toujours pas appris qu'il fallait baisser la tête en sortant.

3. L'un(e) des locataires précédent(e)s, un(e) que je n'ai pas connu(e), a collé plein de trucs louches dans des endroits bizarres. Une poésie, notamment, un truc qui explique qu'il ne faut pas s'attacher, jamais s'installer, et considérer chaque étape de la vie comme, justement, une étape vers quelque chose d'autre. Poésie que je vois systématiquement après m'être ramassé le crâne contre le chambranle de la porte, étant donné qu'elle y est scotchée. L'un(e) des locataires précédent(e)s voulait que je déménage avant même que je ne sois arrivée. C'est une jolie poésie, cela dit. Il ou elle a aussi collé un truc louche qui s'appelle "aime ton prochain" sur le plafond de la cuisine, au dessus d'une étagère, et a laissé des conseils yogasques dans des coins bizarres. Genre l'exercice magique où, pour la paix de l'esprit, il faut se boucher une narine et expirer très fort par l'autre. Moi j'ai des allergies chroniques. Pas de paix de l'esprit.

4. Les voisins d'en face ont de très jolies jardinières, avec des géraniums et plein d'autres trucs charmants dedans. De notre côté, depuis que je suis arrivée, il y a des affreux machins tout secs (probablement planté à l'époque par l'Homme/la Femme aux poésies). C'est même à se demander pourquoi on en a toujours, des jardinières... Je crois qu'il y a eu une vague tentative de plantage de thym, l'an dernier, à un moment où on avait temporairement oublié que Cologne, c'est le même climat que Novosibirsk. La blague, c'est que nous, on vit à Deutz (banlieue moche de Cologne, de l'autre côté du Rhin), et que les voisins habitent dans la vieille ville de Cologne. Chez eux, c'est beau, mais ils ont une vue pourrie, et chez nous, c'est pourri, mais au moins on a une jolie vue... Peut-être qu'un jour, j'achèterai des mini-moulins qui tournent dans le vent, tout plein de mini-moulins, et je les planterai dans la jardinière. Je sais qu'une vraie plante verte, c'est sans espoir.

5. Je crois que sous l'évier, il y a un tout petit monstre (invisible) qui mange les ustensiles de cuisine. C'est la seule solution, selon moi, pour expliquer les disparitions consécutives de notre râpe à fromage, de notre presse-purée et de 75% de nos papinettes. Je vais essayer de lui laisser les fourchettes en plastique qu'il y a dans mes salades, en offrande, avant qu'il ne s'attaque aux casseroles.

God save the Queen

Bon.

Mon Blog est mort.

Mon blog est mort sur un dernier post qui n'est pas du tout à la hauteur. Mon blog est mort en Anglais, et si j'étais un tant soit peu cohérente, je continuerais à l'écrire en Anglais. C'était un peu le but, quand même, après tout.

Cela dit, ça fait maintenant deux ans (même deux ans et un petit mois) que j'habite en Allemagne, qui sait ce que ça pourrait faire à mon français !! Qui sait si ma maladie des parenthèses ne va pas me ressaisir, qui sait si je ne vais pas perdre tout mon style, et prendre l'accent alsacien de l'écrit ??

Mon blog et mort, aussi, et mon blog me manque (un peu). Les listes, les âneries, un peu de tout, ça me manque. Aussi, les blogs d'autres gens me donnent envie de ré-écrire plus. Alternativement. Soit ils me donnent envie d'écrire de nouveau, soit ils me donnent envie d'arrêter tout et d'aller me cacher sous mon lit parce que je ne suis pas à la hauteur, mais je pense qu'il ne faut pas se laisser abattre, you'll never shine if you don't glow, chacun son machin et tout et tout.

Donc. Je vous propose. Je vais essayer d'écrire plus souvent. Je vais essayer d'écrire en français (au moins en partie). Je vais essayer de relancer un peu la machine bloguesque. Et si jamais ça marche pas, au moins, mon blog ne sera plus coincé sur ce même post déprimo-étrange au sujet de Jane Eyre avec une vidéo de fan-girl comme illustration. How about that ? (Ah, oui, parce que je ne vous promet pas de ne pas imiter Mia Frye, hein. Ecrire en français, c'est mignon, mais il ne faut pas trop m'en demander quand même).

Mon blog est mort, donc. Vive mon blog !

Nothing is written

I've been to the cinema, reader. I don't know exactly what happened, but it got me all crazy. Not the film itself, more the way back... I walked, for like an hour, and upon coming home, I felt like a sock: turned completely inside out, with a few strings hanging out.

I've been to see Jane Eyre, actually, and I knew upon going that it was going to be a weird experience, and that I probably wouldn't enjoy it. But hey, it's Jane Eyre, it's my favorite book in its own way, it's important, and I wouldn't have missed it. I did not like it (big surprise there), but how could you possibly get angry at someone for failing at an impossible task? I don't actually think it could have been any better. I think probably Charlotte Brontë would have approved, and the girls next to me at the cinema had obviously never read the book and got out intending to do it. So, well, mission accomplished, I guess.

Please forgive the crappy photo-video thing I just had no idea for a picture, and I really like the song, and find it appropriate.

I personally think that filming Jane Eyre is impossible. All the details matter too much. All that she says, all that he says, all the "little" characters on the side (her nurse at Gateshead, her teacher friend at Lowood, everyone matters in their own way). I think that's what makes it such a good book, actually, there's hardly anything that's not useful (only St John, if you ask me. Not useful at all, and a terrible bully, as well as a bore. Someone should rid us of St John once and for all. He's insufferable. Yes. I said it. Insufferable.)

I would have made it differently, of course. I would have added more of this, and cut a few of these long shots of her walking under blossoming cherry trees, but honestly, there were really, really good ideas. I think what I would do is make an 8 hour long version, with EVERYTHING in it, except maybe make Lowood slightly shorter, and St John slightly less annoying The trouble is, in order to produce all this, I'd probably have to make some concessions. Like put a huge battle in it. With orcs, and elves, and someone screaming "Haldir! To the gate!", and probably she'd need a sidekick. I don't think Jane Eyre would be quite the same with Jar Jar Bings telling her to "cheer up, missi".

Two things I can't forgive, though, even though it's perfectly well cast, made me cry, and did turn me inside out, after all (that must mean something): Rochester never says "He would not rue his bloody blunder more than I now rue mine", and that's like filming Hamlet but cutting the part when he says "To be, or not to be", and also he doesn't accuse her of trying to drown him in his sleep, which is one of my favorite parts of the book, and which was exactly the excerpt that they chose to print in the leaflet that they distributed at the cinema. Why would you make me read that scene again, make me want to see it very badly, and then not put it in? Why? I do not understand it.

Anyway. Do go see it, though, it was actually good. I did not like it.

I may tarry a while...

"If I'm late, don't wait

Go home without me

I may tarry a while

'Cause I need to know

Before I go :

How come the devil smiles"

I have not been writing here in forever, and I'm kind of missing my blog. Actually, I think what I'm missing is inspiration. And I mean that as in "I miss you" not as in "there's no coffee left" (I am making very little sense, and hope that you can read my mind...)

In any case, part of the things I do when I want inspiration is I go for a walk. Nothing new, of course, but walking tends to help me think clearer. Or maybe not clearer, but in a more focused manner.

So this summer, in order to look for inspiration, I've been going for walks in the night. Yeah, because I'm too cool for school, and walking during the day is so yesterday. Actually, here is a list of 5 good reasons to go have a nice walk by night, especially if you live in Cologne.

1. It prevents you from being reduced to a smouldering mess on the pavement. After a long, hot day of summer, when it's time to go to bed, but you don't want to get between the sheets because they're going to be sticky and you'll be too warm, just turn all the lights off, open the window very wide, put on a t-shirt, and walk off for an hour. Things will be much better when you come back (supposedly. Sometimes, a giant moth may decide to settle in while you're away, and then you'll have to chase it through the room, which will help you build out a nice little sweat, and then you're doomed to go back and have another little walk.)

2. There's no better opportunity to pretend you're a ninja fighter. Or a medieval princess. Or a gothic vampire warrior. Or a drug dealer. No one's on the streets, and you can just go ahead and be whatever you like. Depending on what your MP3 player decided to choose. (Respectively the Kung Fu Panda soundtrack, Emily Portman, weird techno stuff roommate N gave me or the "The Wire" soundtrack).

3. There's no better opportunity to be cheesy. If you're alone. Because in fact, it's not a necessary condition. Sometimes, going for a walk at night WITH someone is even cooler. But if that option's out, then you can go alone and have the cheeziest thoughts ever. You know, some of the thoughts when you're convinced you've found some Sacred Snippet of Truth. Actually, you've forgotten all about them by the time you reach your front door again, but still, it's nice.

4. It's cheap and romantic. It's actually not romantic at all, it's just walking in the night, but then you can claim that you "like to take long walks in the night". Kind of like "I'm writing a novel actually" or something. And it's sport without being sport, as well, which is wonderful. Ok, it's not sport at all, but calory-wise, it's still better than to sit on my couch, I guess.

5. It gets you acquainted with your neighbourhood in a very different way. It's in the dark, and there's no one around, so if you like you can stop and have a closer look at the grafiti, or maybe even stop and READ them (in my neighbourhood in Cologne, we've got a crazy person writing whole political pamphlets on the walls... Very strange. I don't understand anything, I just wonder where the guy came from, because he seems to know what he's talking about. I'd bet on a rogue European MP, driven mad by a 5 hours meeting on the correct length of shoe laces.) I'd say "you can stop in your tracks and look at the stars" as well, only I tried that the other day, and it turns out there actually was someone on the street and he stared at me like I was nuts (some people just don't get cheaply romantic, do they??)

Anyway. It's time for me to get back to my vocab list for my contract tomorrow (which, as it turns out, is much cooler than I expected it to be, so life's good). Have a nice night, and sweet dreams, reader!

Sh'PAM! PAM! PAM! Another one bites the dust!

Today, because I am, somehow, for no apparent reason, in a martial mood, I shall write a post about songs that I'd listen to if on my way to a battle. It's actually partially inspired by Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman (whom I love)... in the book he says that each of us is born with his or her very own song, and all you need to do is find it. Then he writes about a lady and says :

"Take Daisy, for example. Her song, which has been somewhere in the back of her head for most of her life, had a reassuring, marching sort of beat, and words that were about protecting the weak, and it had a chorus that began "Evildoers beware!" and was thus much too silly ever to be sung out loud."

I find the idea so amazingly cool, and I wish I had exactly that song in the back of my head, that's the type of person I'd like to be, I think, a little bit. It's probably one of these leftover things from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In any case, I don't. I think my song is about marshmallows and puffy blankets. That's fate for you.

In any case: I like the idea of a marching sort of beat to lead you through life's daily battles (like ordering coffee at Starbucks in German and getting the English accent on the right words. Bringing yourself to talk about something really important. Getting that stupid paperwork done. Getting out of bed. You know what I mean...)

So here are 5 songs that I think are good battle-fighting songs.

1) Another one bites the dust. Or We will rock you. I don't know what it is with Queen, really, but every time I listen to their songs, it gets me completely hyper. I'm not exactly a fan, and I don't even like everything they do (like, for example, "Princes of the Universe", which is terrible) but MAN! These two, and a few others, they are so awesome and so completely great that I find it hard to believe anybody actually wrote them. I think they must have been part of our collective imagination much earlier on.

So that would be for physical tasks, I think. Like going to Ikea and getting that 45 kg bookcase back home using only public transportation. And your roommate (eternal gratefulness, but the SHAME!!! OH THE SHAME, IT HAS NO END!!! Like a GIRL, for heaven's sake...)

2) Uninvited, by Alanis Morissette. I don't like this type of over-emotional songs, usually. I'm very easily ironic and snobbish about that type of songs. But this one? I don't know. It makes me want to punch holes in a wall and grow taller and taller until I'm big as a statue and shining and terrifying, a little like Galadriel in The Lord of the Rings movie. That would be for... getting angry at someone you like.

3) Sunday Bloody Sunday, by U2. I'm in a U2 kind of mood, these days, weirdly. That song is just great, and it makes me want to move mountains. That would be for political battles, obviously. That would be for going to a demonstration.

4) Inertia Creeps, by Massive Attack. It's a nice crescendo-type song. Really cool on the train to somewhere where you're scared to go. Matrix-type of mission.

5) Alles Neu, by Peter Fox. I don't know if you know Peter Fox, reader. He's a really cool German hip-hop (kinda) singer, and this song is about destroying things and starting a revolution, and beginning again from scratch. It's, hence, self-evident the type of battle that this is about.

With this, all I can say is: peace out (ha ha ha)

Comme envie de crever ton chat...

Reader, I can't take any more. I'm not like that, usually, I don't ever talk about politics, not here, at least, but well, this is the Internet, and on the Internet, any fool can express their opinion, whether sufficiently informed or not, so this here is mine. The opinion of an uninformed fool. Here are 5 things that, truly, really, profoundly and deeply annoy me about France these days.

1. I cannot deal with the blatant populist crap that's been vented by the people in power over the past few months. We are dealing with all kinds of troubles, these times, a terrible economic crisis, war in Lybia, it's not like it's a light news week, and yet, what do we talk about? We go on and on about state subsidies for the poor and how that's too much already. We start a 20th debate about Islam in France. As if that was going to make anything better. As if the problem with Islam and France was not that we talk about it as if it were a bloody problem.

2. Follows on 1.'s heels: Why can't they see that it doesn't work? Why can the moderate right-wing people not just wake up already: the number of their supporters are plummeting, the extreme-right party is getting more and more successful... Maybe it's time for a change in strategy, what do you think? Come on! Come on! I listen to them and they remind me of Fox News maniacs. I like my country better when it's lukewarm. The outdated racism we are dealing with these days makes me want to come home and fight. It makes ME! want to go home and fight. You might not really know me, reader, but I'm one of them half-hearted, don't really give a damn kind of people. What I'm saying is: It's bad.

3. That thing with the head of the IMF. I don't know if it's a terrible ploy against him as a person or if he just snapped, I don't really care, to be honest, it's a sad story either way. But in any case, that's one more interesting candidate for the French presidential election 2012 down, and it's depressing.

4. Follows from 1 and 2 as well: people are getting louder and louder and feel less and less guilty about voicing hateful, racist points of view. I've seen a piece on TV today, a typical xenophobic rant, things that I might have found... well in a way normal from an 80-year-old, because well, it takes time to know enough to not fear the people coming over to your country. From a bus driver. He might have been 40 something. Is that really what it's all coming to? Are we not a little bit cleverer?

5. The media, too. I'm not really blaming it on the reporters, they do their job and report, but maybe, maybe if we did not jump on every occasion to broadcast racist rants and backward remarks, we would have less of a problem with people broadcasting their own racist rants and backward remarks on the bus. But then I might be wrong about that, because, as they say, know your enemy.

Well, I sound just like the holier than thou pains-in-the-butt that I would like not to become, but it just had to come out. I just had to say it. This is NOT GOOD, and I really, really wish it would stop. Self-righteous rage is not a good look for me.

Roses are red, violets are blue...

Well, reader... I've got an annoucement to make. Also, I wanted to get rid of that previous post, which was quite lame and stayed up for too long.

I'm in love.

I thought you should know. I thought this blog might be a good way to announce it. Share the joy with you, with whom I've shared quite a lot of stuff over the past few years.

We met on the internet. He's a polyglot, like me, and that what we bonded over, at the very beginning. Well, basically, I needed someone to help me with my work, so I went on that forum, and then... I met him... And I stayed. He's always ready to help if I can't find my words, he's brilliant at communicating, he's got a load of cool friends, whom he's not afraid to share with me, and even though there is no real reason, I trust him entirely. I feel secure that he won't lie to me, he's one of the most reliable guys I've ever been around.

He's not the prettiest, granted, but he's strong as a lion, and he's very talkative, very open minded, he always looks at all sides of a problems, lists all the possible solutions for me, so that I never feel lost. He's always available for me, 24/7, always ready to listen to me and give me advice.If I'm at a loss, especially now that I'm abroad, and don't know what to say, in any given situation, I know he'll always be there to help me on.

That's love. And all you need, is love. His name's Leo. You can find him here, we're in a more... open relationship at the moment :)

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